All apologies to Hallmark but my husband David and I don’t exchange Valentine’s Day cards anymore. We didn’t make a conscious or even neglectful decision to stop doing so – no, “Sorry honey I forgot this year” or “these commercialized holidays are stupid” commentary underscored our reasoning. We had no reason at all, as far as I know.
And if you wake up to pink paper hearts on February 14 th , I’m neither judging nor jealous. It’s totally great to be wooed that way. I just thought I’d share what “woo” looks like after more than three decades of marriage. And it starts with an extremely romantic conversation about sleep measurement.
“How did you sleep last night honey?” I typically say, after shutting off the alarm, one
eye barely open. Followed by, “How many times were you up?”
David inevitably inquires along the same lines, and we converse for several minutes about the scintillating topic. Lacking in devotion, you say? I disagree. Who else loves you so much that they want to know whether you reached “deep sleep” for the required amount of time “crucial for physical restoration, repairing tissues, boosting immunity, and consolidating memories,” as my AI health bot insists we must.
A longtime spouse, that’s who.
What else is Valentine worthy though not memorialized on a card? Forget about the heartache of lost love that a lengthy marriage avoids, guess what else will never be truly lost? Our eyeglasses and iPhones.
In the morning, the sleep conversation is followed by the covers being unceremoniously ripped off the bed and one or both of us on our hands and knees peering under the bedframe looking for David’s glasses. In the evening, the roles are reversed as he looks everywhere I tell him my glasses must be so I can take my contacts out. In each case, morning and evening, we hold each other’s eyewear triumphantly aloft, no less a conquering hero than some knight on a steed.
Similarly, our next loving ritual involves a deceptively simple question, “Will you call my phone?” Whether left under the newspaper on the bedside table or by the bathroom sink, we are not without access to apps so long as one of us can call the other and hunt like a truffle-sniffing boar for the muffled ring tone, or, by god, for the distant hint of vibration offered because someone HAS THEIR RINGER OFF.
Speaking of newspapers – I wasn’t but it is very common in a long marriage to say something completely out of context and expect the other person to know exactly what you are talking about – newspaper reading would be fraught if not for the loving lived experience of sharing sections. “Let me scan Metro for the headlines,” says he. “Don’t miss the obituary on that cool person” says she. “Did anyone die in Peabody?” asks he. “What time is low tide?” asks she. “Where did the Sports section go?” demands he. “It’s right in front of you!” scoffs she. And in this manner, the day’s morning news is consumed.
In the evening, when reunited for dinner, David often poses this question: “Any news since the Sunday morning papers?” Even if it’s not Sunday. Which I never point out. In our early pre-marriage and young marriage days, we both used to love watching “This Week with David Brinkley” on Sunday morning. Brinkley always opened the show with breaking news using almost that exact language. Understanding and answering what is meant by an otherwise oddball question, without questioning it, is Valentine’s worthy for sure.
Let’s discuss that topical Valentine’s Day issue of forgiving cheating. “I didn’t mean to!” I protest to David’s sigh of disappointment. “Of course you did,” he laments. Discovering and sharing a streaming show we know we will both love is one of life’s great pleasures. Two of our favorites were “The Diplomat” and “Madame Secretary.” And maybe, on one or two or ten occasions, when David was out at night teaching, I may have gone ahead one or two or (in the case of Tea Leoni and Tim Daly’s utterly addictive love story amidst geopolitical maneuvering) ten episodes. But I confessed! Right away! And pledged to never let it happen again. And when it does, I know David will forgive me because he lov….
Okay, actually because if he doesn’t he’ll never get to watch a streaming show again because he does not know how to use the new clicker. An edge on wielding technology is the new love language. Or something like that.
Could any of the above scenarios be adequately captured on a greeting card? No, but they are captured in a life by this couple who knows how lucky we are, on Valentine’s Day and every day.
